No Touching by pambelina
by pameblina
Summary: Felicity has noticed Oliver's been avoiding her and decides to confront him about it. One shot. First ever fanfic. Be gentle.


No Touching

By pambelina

Oliver hadn't touched her in over a week.

It embarrassed Felicity, not only that she knew this, but that she was actively thinking about it. And had been for about a week. It irritated her that she catalogued his touch like a librarian would books. Not that there had ever been a lot of touching between. Oliver was not an affectionate man and theirs was not a relationship that required a lot of touch.

So it wasn't a lack of hugs or kisses or hand-holding that Felicity noticed. Aside from a few well-remembered moments, those had never happened between them. Oliver was not touching her _at all_ and seemed to be doing it purposely.

Just last week he'd been happy with some intel she'd hacked her way to and he'd gone to rest his hand on her shoulder. Just before he made contact, however, he fisted his hand and put it behind his back. After that there had been a dozen similar moments that led her to believe that something had changed between them. But what? And when? And was it up to her to fix it?

So tonight she'd made the decision to stay in the lair even after Oliver had told her he was done Hooding and she and Dig could go. He'd been doing that more often too, telling her to go before he got back.

"You ready?" Dig asked.

"I have a few more things to finish up here, but you don't have to wait on me." Felicity smiled, hoping he couldn't tell how nervous she was.

"Alright, make sure Oliver walks you to your car. Good night."

"Night, Dig."

Her heartbeat ratcheted up its rhythm as she thought about what she would say to Oliver. Her armpits started to sweat as they grossly did every time she got overly nervous. She decided to keep her elbows at her side hoping he wouldn't notice the sweat stains.

The lair was so quiet she could hear the beeps of someone typing on the keypad. Her heart jumped into her throat and seemed to lodge there. She breathed in and out, counting to ten as she listened to Oliver walk down the steps behind her.

"I told you to go home, Felicity." His voice had that edge to it that told her the adrenaline was still running high.

She twirled the chair around. "I know. I'm about to go. I just wanted to talk to you before I go. Um, the last week or so…"

He couldn't possibly hear her over all the banging and slamming he was doing. It seemed he was determined to make as much noise as possible. The small amount of courage she had mustered suddenly abandoned her.

"Fine. Good night then." She shrugged into her jacket and grabbed her things.

"Let me change and I'll walk you out," Oliver said, his voice oddly quiet.

"Not necessary. I parked close tonight. Found a pretty amazing spot, actually. I couldn't pass it up, even though I try not to park too close, as a rule. I don't want anyone to notice my car is here night after night and put two and two together. Not that it would necessarily equal working for the Hood, but it would be hard to explain why I was at a club every night, even when it's closed." She realized she was babbling, and took a deep breath. "Anyway, one of the bouncers will be able to see me from the door until I get into my car. So I'm fine without your help."

She was almost all the way up the stairs before Oliver spoke again. "I'm sorry. I'm being rude. Was there something you wanted to talk about?"

She paused, but didn't look at him. "Nope. See you tomorrow."

The clanging behind her let her know Oliver was coming up after her. She reached the landing and had her hand on the door, determined to get out of there before she made a fool of herself.

So he hadn't touched her lately. So what? She was making way too big a deal out of it.

"Felicity."

His voice was so close it made her jump. She turned to see him standing right behind her. He was still wearing his leather pants and eye makeup, but he'd taken off his hood and jacket and now only wore a sweat-stained gray tank top.

Why was it socially acceptable, and oddly alluring, for him to be all sweaty, but not her?

The silence stretched out. She hated silence, which was why she always rushed to fill it, which led to rambling, which led to embarrassment. It was a vicious circle. It took a lot of will power for her to wait for him to speak. She avoided his gaze, waiting for as long as she could stand it. When he still hadn't said anything a few seconds later she turned back to the door.

"Night Oliver."

#

She hadn't been home more than ten minutes when a knock came to her door. She looked down at her outfit: a long white tank top that almost covered her plaid boxer shorts and a pair of her favorite polka-dot socks with a hole in one heel. While debating whether or not she should answer the door wearing it, another knock came, louder and more insistent.

Her feet slid across the hardwood floor as she crossed her apartment. Through the peephole she saw Oliver's stupid beautiful face. She took a deep breath, prayed for some courage, and opened the door.

Oliver gave her an awkward half-smile as his eyes wandered down her outfit. Returning the favor, she noticed he was wearing jeans and a gray sweater. So simple, but he wore it so well.

"Hi."

"Hi?" she asked. "What are you doing here?"

He glanced around the hall. "May I come in?"

The thought of Oliver in her apartment nearly gave her a panic attack. "No!" To add credence to her words she shut the door behind her.

And heard the lock click.

"Oh…" she whispered, "…no."

"Lock yourself out?" He looked like he was trying not to smile.

"Yup." The p-sound popped.

"How can I help?" he asked.

"You can tell me why you're here." Felicity folded her arms over her chest, grateful she was still wearing a bra.

He pointed at her door. "How are you going to get back in?"

"Believe it or not, I survived up to this point without you. I don't need you to rescue me every time something bad happens."

Oliver seemed to still be waiting for her answer.

"I have a hide-a-key stashed here in the hall. I'll be fine." She watched his eyes rake over every inch of the hallway. "Why are you here? It's not even midnight on a Friday night. Surely you have somewhere else you need to be."

"I was rude tonight and it was inexcusable. What did you want to talk about?"

Felicity rolled her eyes. "You came all the way out here to ask me that?"

He nodded, giving her that wounded puppy look he sometimes had.

"Fine, you know what, fine." A swell of courage and anger pushed the words out of her. "I stayed tonight to talk to ask you what the hell is going on with you. Something has changed between us and I can't figure out what or why."

She waited.

And waited.

She watched Oliver's face, willing him to say something. Anything.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Anything but that.

Tears pricked the corner of her eyes. She nodded, trying to hold them back. "Fine. Okay. Good. Glad it was all in my head."

She moved around him to the other side of the hall, knelt down, and flipped open the fake outlet she'd installed. The small compartment held her spare key. She unlocked her door, avoiding him again, returned the key and snapped the hiding place closed. When she turned back around Oliver was gone. Taking in a big shaky breath, she walked into her apartment.

To find Oliver Queen standing in the middle of her living room.

She locked the door out of habit and stood awkwardly next to her coat rack, watching him appraise her place. A sudden wave of embarrassment washed over her as she saw her apartment through his eyes. Second-hand furniture that didn't match; artwork that was all prints or purchased at thrift stores; several houseplants looking a little worse for the wear.

She saw his eyes linger on her big screen and her various electronics. That's where most of her money went.

"That clock is really interesting." Oliver's voice crashed through the silence. "Where did you get it?"

"I made it."

"Seriously?" His eyes met hers. "How?"

She shrugged and tapped her collarbones. "Spare computer parts, a couple of online videos, and a desire to make something with my hands that could hang on my wall."

Oliver raised his eyebrows.

Felicity stepped toward him. "Why don't you sit, since you seem so intent on staying."

Oliver sat on her orange couch. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I'm just really bad at talking about… pretty much everything."

"So here's your second chance." She sat on her coffee table, facing him. Their knees were not quite touching, but she noticed Oliver moved back a little to put more space between them. "Why won't you touch me?"

His eyes grew wide.

"You're avoiding me and I can feel that something is wrong, even though I have no idea what. It's like right before I get sick I can feel my body is off somehow. It's warning me to batten down the hatches because a storm is coming." She said it all in one breath, not stopping to think about it.

The corner of his mouth quirked up. "You think we need to prepare our relationship for a storm?"

She blushed. "Figuratively speaking."

"That's what I'm trying to avoid," Oliver said.

"What do you mean?"

He rubbed his hands together as he thought. Finally he shook his head and put a hand on her bare knee.

The heat was immediate. The tingles she'd always read about were there. She loved the way it felt when he touched her.

"Do you feel that?" his voice was soft. "That electricity? That happens every time I touch you, no matter how benign it is. And every time I touch you I want to touch you more and more until we work up enough electricity to power Verdant for a year."

Felicity blushed again just thinking about it.

"The thing is," Oliver licked his lips. "The thing is I can't feel that way about you. I am so broken and if we were together you would be at risk every second. So I made the choice to stop touching you altogether. I started two weeks ago. I wondered if you would notice." He took a deep sigh. "I'm sorry."

"Okay," she said after a moment of thought. "Well I think you're full of it. You're a commitment-phobe who's exchanging one set of excuses for another."

Oliver opened her mouth and she held up her hand. "My turn. I'd be in no more danger as Oliver Queen's girlfriend than I am as the hooded vigilante's IT girl. So you have to decide if your excuses are real or all in your head."

Still riding the coat-tails of her courage, she scooted forward until her knees were between his. With both hands firmly on his thighs, she leaned forward and kissed him.

But he didn't kiss her back.

She leaned back, completely embarrassed. "Well that answers that question." The short walk to her door was just enough time to get her emotions back under control. She opened the door and gestured. "Well I've made a big enough fool of myself. Please go."

Oliver stood up and Felicity shushed him. "Just get out."

At the threshold he turned and she slammed the door in her face. She gave a triumphant smile just before she burst into tears. Tonight had been, by far, the most humiliating night of her life.

The thought of facing him tomorrow brought on another wave of ugly sobbing. How could she ever face him again? What would she say?

There was a soft knock at the door.

"Go away, Oliver!" she yelled, hoping he couldn't hear the tears in her voice.

"Please let me in," came his calm reply.

"No thank you. Let's just call it a night before it gets worse." Although at this point she couldn't imagine how that could happen.

"Please?" Oliver begged. "I know where your hide-a-key is and I could come through your window."

Felicity grabbed some tissues and started wiping the wetness off her face.

"Are you calling my bluff?" he threatened.

She hadn't even turned the handle all the way before Oliver had come in, shut the door, and wrapped her up in a knock-your-socks-off kiss.

Felicity didn't even have a chance to process it fully before he pulled away. Her whole body was on fire from how close he was.

His smile turned to a frown as he looked at her face. Cupping her cheek, he ran his thumb under her eye to catch her last tear.

"Did I make you cry?" His voice was practically a whisper.

Felicity shrugged, still not quite sure what was happening.

He leaned his forward to hers. "I'm so sorry. I really am worried for your safety, but you're right, I'm terrified of commitment."

She pulled away to look him in the eye. "Just to clarify, are you, Oliver Queen, admitting you were wrong?"

A smile ghosted across his lips. "Yes. About everything. I need you in my life. I want you so much."

She put a hand on his chest, relishing the fact that his arms were still around her. "Two things. First, you aren't entirely forgiven yet. I'll be milking this for at least a week." Oliver grinned. "Secondly, there is far too much talking going on right now."

"Couldn't agree more." This time his kiss was soft and slow. "I promise to never stop touching you again."

"You better not."


End file.
